02-05-2020, 02:04 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 6pt; letter-spacing: 1.5px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]Mollie Hawthorne had a reputation.
It was difficult to ascertain the significance of such stature - whether it was an impressive reputation or one which made people wary of her fervid presence - but Mollie felt confident in herself that, regardless of people’s preconceived notions, her name was ultimately one etched into the backs of many minds. She liked to believe that it was a greater feat to have a bad reputation than no reputation at all, and so she lived by that belief every day of her life.
Jimmy was slow and fumbling as the bay mule trudged along, Mollie’s eyes squinting ever-so-slightly as they neared the familiar territory. The Cult of Dionysus, also known as her very own little haven away from home, or whatever home was for the time being. A visit would always have her yearning for the fleeting intimacy and closeness she would always find waiting for her. With lovers and friends alike, Mollie knew that she would always feel at home whenever she came to visit.
They were welcoming and kind, understanding of her desire to come and go as she pleased. Like a feline, coy and autonomous. One could hold her, touch her, kiss her, but she was never anyone’s to keep. Mollie had been this way for as long as she could remember; fiercely independent and self-reliant. As much as she adored the people here, she knew that in order to feel the most herself, her time spent here had to be only temporary.
Besides, it made the trips to Dionysus all the more enthralling.
Upon reaching the ruins of the city, Mollie dismounted Jimmy, patting her neck briefly. She knew well that it would only be time before she was greeted with the utmost display of tenderness and so, with a curious gleam in her eyes, she finally straightened up, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and held onto Jimmy's reins as she wandered further into the city.
It was difficult to ascertain the significance of such stature - whether it was an impressive reputation or one which made people wary of her fervid presence - but Mollie felt confident in herself that, regardless of people’s preconceived notions, her name was ultimately one etched into the backs of many minds. She liked to believe that it was a greater feat to have a bad reputation than no reputation at all, and so she lived by that belief every day of her life.
Jimmy was slow and fumbling as the bay mule trudged along, Mollie’s eyes squinting ever-so-slightly as they neared the familiar territory. The Cult of Dionysus, also known as her very own little haven away from home, or whatever home was for the time being. A visit would always have her yearning for the fleeting intimacy and closeness she would always find waiting for her. With lovers and friends alike, Mollie knew that she would always feel at home whenever she came to visit.
They were welcoming and kind, understanding of her desire to come and go as she pleased. Like a feline, coy and autonomous. One could hold her, touch her, kiss her, but she was never anyone’s to keep. Mollie had been this way for as long as she could remember; fiercely independent and self-reliant. As much as she adored the people here, she knew that in order to feel the most herself, her time spent here had to be only temporary.
Besides, it made the trips to Dionysus all the more enthralling.
Upon reaching the ruins of the city, Mollie dismounted Jimmy, patting her neck briefly. She knew well that it would only be time before she was greeted with the utmost display of tenderness and so, with a curious gleam in her eyes, she finally straightened up, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and held onto Jimmy's reins as she wandered further into the city.